Tasting The Forbidden

11.A Beast

Melissa’s pov:

Mr Blackwood hadn’t lied. He truly was a beast. He didn’t let us off the hook until we were panting, as if our very lives depended on it.

There was barely any rest allowed, more than enough fire coursing through our veins to make him proud, but not enough air to breathe.

When, at long last, he clapped his hands, saying it was time to do some stretching, he had a knowing smirk on his face, “How was your first taste of real training, folks?”

Olivia dropped to her knees, and I went to her, even though I was wheezing myself. Extending a hand out, which she took gratefully, I helped her up.

“You were not joking, Mr B,” Billy told him in a wonder-filled tone of voice. “For a combat trainer, you’re really something else.”

“Yeah, for real,” Jeffrey Miller nodded, out of breath like the rest of us.

“I miss Mr Brown,” Peter Ford let out in a mumbling, whining tone of voice.

“You’re allowed to miss him, but you’ll have to get used to me,” Mr Blackwoord chuckled good-humoredly, making Peter’s head snap up and his face turn red. I guessed that he hadn’t realized he had spoken out loud.

“I don’t think Mr Brown was ever serious about training us,” I shook my head negatively. “He’s a kind man but nowhere nearly as good of a trainer as you are.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he drawled, an easy smile playing on his lips.

Then, he was showing us moves, specific ones, which helped us soothe out sore muscles.

“Get some rest. See you all tomorrow,” he let out in parting. “Oh, and Olivia?”

“Yes, Mr Blackwood?” She stood at attention, correcting her stance, at once. “You did well. But do remember to have a hearty dinner tomorrow. I am out of chocolates.”

“Yes, sir,” she let out solemnly.

“I think my muscles already feel tomorrow’s training,” Billy let out jokingly as he flexed his biceps a couple of times.

“I don’t feel my legs in the least bit,” I complained, giggling ever so softly.

“Well, he saw right through your weakness,” he nodded gravely, a touch of admiration in his eyes.

“Yeah, I know right! I have a decent hook, but I lack when it comes to kicks,” I admitted easily, a faint blush creeping up under my skin.

“No, you have a powerful hook, but your footwork needs some practise,” he countered, a small smile stretching his lips.

“But boy do I stink,” I declared, wrinkling my nose.

“We still going to the party?” Billy asked after a beat.

“Party? What party?” I echoed after him in a dumb tone of voice.

He gave me a look, and I remembered exactly what party he spoke of.

Jeffrey Miller’s older brother, Lance, who was in college, was the one throwing it… and let’s just say that Billy had the hots for him.

“Do we have to?” I frowned ever so slightly.

“I need you there,” he insisted, nodding, and I raised an eyebrow at him. Billy had never been a clingy type of friend, and I wasn’t sure where this was coming from. He heaved a sigh, and then went on, “Pep talk, emotional support, and all.”

I realized, right then and there, that he might be preparing himself to either confess or make a move on his crush.

“I got your back,” I told him, putting my fist forward, which he bumped with his own, a smile splitting his face at once.

“Thanks, princess,” he drawled. “I owe you one.”

“Oh please, what are friends even for?” I winked.

“You’re going to a party?” Olivia, who was trailing at her own pace behind us, and whom we had totally forgotten all about, let out softly.

“Yes,” Billy nodded eagerly. “Care to join?”

“I wish, but I could never,” she shook her head negatively, seemingly not fond of the idea.

“It’ll be fun,” he said, trying to sway her.

“I can talk to your mom,” I offered in a sweet tone of voice, knowing that her mom was rather stern about parties and a total and complete motherhen.

Olivia stopped abruptly, and Billy and I turned to her at once, “You’d do that for me?”

Her eyes were glassy, and I wondered for a split second why she was even moved to tears.

Reaching out for her shoulder, I patted it gently, “You defended me in the forum. And you and I both know how fierce our fellow pack members can be.”

“I only told the truth,” she retorted timidly.

“And that’s more than many would have done for me,” I offered her a small smile, even as I recalled the nasty comments.

Everyone had been eager to throw me under the bus, just because Sandra sank her claws in yet another guy.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” she assured me, and the words brought me more comfort than I thought possible.

I extended a hand at that point, “Friends?”

“Friends,” she all but beamed at me.

** ** ** **

Lance Miller’s party was bound to be a big one. As the Gamma’s son, his reputation preceded him, and most of his friends were known to be from old founding families, and elite warriors too.

Lance saw me as a little sister, often calling me a pest, but he had always had my back when we were younger.

I wasn’t sure if he had any feelings for Billy, but I knew that my best friend needed to either get the guy or get him out of his system.

By the time we arrived, around 10:30 pm, the party was in full swing. Music was blaring everywhere, most people were on their way to a drunken haze – as drunk as a werewolf could get anyways.

“I’m sorry mom is such a buzzkill,” Olivia apologized softly once more. “I never would have guessed she would tell you to bring me home before midnight, as if I were some long-lost now-found Cinderella.”

“Well, one gotta understand where she's coming from,” I shrugged, understanding her mom’s fears all too well.

“But I never go to parties,” Olivia pouted.

“We’ll be sure to drag you out to parties often,” Billy told her jokingly, even as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the crowd dancing on the floor.

He was obviously looking for Lance, and I followed his gaze, finding the Gamma heir himself leaning against the wall, behind which was the stairwell of their house.

“It’s showtime, princess,” Billy’s voice was teasing at best, and I followed him to the dancefloor, tugging on Olivia’s hand, so we wouldn’t lose her.

“What are we doing?” She asked, her eyes wide.

“Dancing,” I declared in a duh tone of voice, before I began to move to the beat of the music.